The Beast Inside
by Cerulean orbs
Summary: The world stopped spinning and you were gone... (Simon-centric with mention of Ralph, Jack and Roger.)


**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Weak**

Some mornings Simon wakes up, eyes heavy with sleep and faint red rims betraying those few moments of weakness, when in the darkness of the night he'd let his resolve break and allowed hot tears to marr flushed cheeks.

**Rationalize**

He is deathly scared of the night. But it is so dark and cold, he reasons, and he can just _feel_ the evil oozing from every nook and corner of the Island, enveloping them, seeping in through their pours, inhaled with every breath and exhaled twice fold.

**Day dream **

The darkness shadows over his eyes and clasps his ears and he finds himself turning hot and cold all at once as he imagines the choir turning towards him, their eyes blood-red with thirst and their once angelic voices now chanting and screaming dismorphed hymns they learned in church once a lifetime ago.

**Faith**

It's not demons, it's not the devil, they're not evil, just a bunch of stranded school boys without adult supervision. _They're not savages, they're not, they're not... _He chants in his head like a mantra and closes his eyes tightly and clenches his fists until his nails leave crimson cresents on his palm and repeats it until he does not stutter while voicing it. He'll **make** himself believe damn it!

**Avoid**

He's afraid to look any one of them in the eyes, afraid he will be forced to accept the brutal reality if he spots (and he knows he will) that certain spark of blood lust coupled with a mix of savagory and then he's afraid his own will betray what he clenches his lips so tightly and keeps inside. But he's terrified of looking into Roger's coal black eyes the most. Because if eyes are the windows to the soul, his is deep, black and dead and Simon is afraid they'll suck the life out of him.

**Wish**

"I'm part of you", the Lord of the Flies says to Simon. "Close, close close...", it rasps. "I'm warning you, I'm going to get waxy. D'you see? You're not wanted. Understand?..." "-or else, we shall do you. See? Jack and Roger and Maurice and Robert and Bill and Piggy and Ralph. Do you. See?" And he muses, as violent tremors shake his body and the darkness threatens to engulf him, death would've been better than this knowledge.

**Denial**

"Maybe there is a beast" his soft voice echoes in Ralph's ears as he feverently tries to wash the blood, _his_ blood, from his hands and his torso and his arms and his legs and from under his finger nails and washes it out from his hair and rinses it out from his mouth and wonder how it got there? He wasn't in the _dance_, he was on the outside, he came back early, it was just a game, _he _was only pretending, _he _was batty, _he_ asked for it... he didn't kill anyone! But God! there's so much blood. It's everywhere! It stains his body and he just **can't** seem to wash it **off**! "Maybe it's just us..."

**Obsess**

Jack knows Simon. Down to every last detail. He knows where he lived, his parents, siblings, family. He's read his diary (May I? We were very close...), he knows everything there is to know about the younger boy. He loves Simon! Now that he is no longer alive, he belongs to Jack, and he has captured moments of him in pictures and sketches and paintings which adore every inch of his room. _He_ resides inside of him, now. Simon belongs to him because Jack saved him. He was the beast, Jack killed him, he did not let him be tainted, he preserved his purity, forever froze it in time and in each of their memories. Funny how death makes you so much more important.

**Two**

It was a mistake! There was that _bloody_ dance. There was thunder and lightning. They were all scared. And then there was the beast and its flesh was so soft and the blood so warm and he'd completely let himself go and it'd felt so _good_!; the thrill of freedom. But then the beast was not a beast, just a broken, bloodied, dead boy. Dead. _Killed. _Ripped apart limb from limb by their bare hands. It'd been a bloody mistake, but it'd felt so good, and Roger wants to feel that way again. Pure bliss. Ecstacy! And so when regret claws its way in and he feel its icy fingers clasp around his heart making it so hard for him to breathe, he kills again.

**Comfort**

"You'll get back all right." He'd reassured Ralph. But Ralph sitting in the rescue ship, hugging his knees to his chest, broken both in body and spirit isn't so sure anymore.

**Reflection**

Jack wears a mask in public. He wears it at home. He's mastered the technique to hide behind his face without the paint. But when he glances into the mirror his eyes gaze into that of a hunter's, a savage's, a _murderer's_, and he wants to shatter every reflective surface in existance and set fire to the shards so no one, not even he himself can see what's he really is. And maybe, just _maybe_ then, he'll will himself to forget.

A/N: please review and tell me what you think :)


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